


Chi

by Gangstertogangster



Category: Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gangstertogangster/pseuds/Gangstertogangster
Relationships: Shades Alvarez/Mariah Dillard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Chi

The buildings weren’t as tall, of course, but it was still a city. “It’s quaint,” Mariah often said during their trip.

Mariah and Hernan were in Chicago, just to get away for a while. Mariah lived and breathed Harlem but she needed a vacation, a place where Misty Knight and Luke Cage wouldn’t be breathing down her neck. And it was nice to get away. Chicago was just Chicago. They could just be. 

What was more, she and Hernan had never been on a vacation together before. 

Mariah had been to Chicago before many times. She knew it was the home of Gwendolyn Brooks and Margaret Burroughs and Barack and Michelle Obama, the latter two of whom she happened to rub elbows with now and again back in the day, when she was working in law. She knew about the library and the theater and music and literature. Chicago was, as she described Harlem, a phoenix that rose from the ashes. It’s all she knew how to do. That’s what Mariah admired most about herself. 

It was the home to its own renaissance. She knew that. It was also, comparatively, quaint. 

Hernan’s first view of the city, once they were transported from O’Hare Airport to their hotel, left him underwhelmed.  _ This was the skyline that was so famous? It’s just a few buildings.  _

Mariah, in the ride over, noticing her companion’s unimpressed demeanor, said, “That’s why it’s the  _ second _ city.” 

They got settled in the presidential sweet at the Drake hotel. Their bags unpacked, Hernan instinctively touched his brow to remove the sunglasses that were usually over his eyes. Mariah laughed a little at that. She made a few phone calls, Hernan standing patiently by for updates. She called Alex to touch base with things back in Harlem, which Hernan was not so patient for. 

Hernan kept yawning, which irritated Mariah to no end. 

“Why don’t you just take a nap?” She finally snapped. Hernan kind of hung his head at that. He gingerly took off his shoes and suit jacket, undid his tie. Mariah went into the bathroom to freshen up, and when she returned there he was, sound asleep, underneath the blanket and sheet, the comforter pulled all the way back. 

Mariah wanted to stretch her legs, so she just paced about the room. She decided to take a bath. Warm in her bathrobe and with a fluffy towel wrapped around her head, she re-entered. She gazed at Hernan, still out cold. 

She stealthily took out her phone and took a picture. He looked cute. She had no time for selfies or for those cute little couple pics, but he looked too sweet. Like a subdued tiger. Maybe like a baby deer, as Misty compared him to. Mariah found herself yawning. She grumbled but relented, climbed into bed next to him. She was determined not to cuddle. Which made waking up to find herself the little spoon all the more weird.   
  


They had dinner reservations at The Girl and The Goat that night. They’d dozed off for a few hours since they arrived, so they had to scramble out of their room, frantically re-buttoning and primping. 

As soon as they walked in, Biggie was blaring from the speakers. Mariah scoffed at that. “Why can’t they just stick to Kanye?” She muttered to Hernan, who smirked in response. 

The hostess approached them, saying, “Alvarez? Follow me to your table.” 

They happily did so, but as they sat down, the hostess made a critical error. 

She started on some small talk, “Is this your first time to Chicago?” 

Mariah smiled politely, said, “No, I’ve been many times. It’s his first.” 

“Did you tell your nephew what to expect when he came here?” 

Hernan gritted his teeth, glaring at the startled young woman. Mariah calmly, just as she did in Harlem, decided to show her how wrong she was. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, biting the lip as she pulled away. 

Mariah held his hand. “No one really knows what they should expect,” she told the hostess smugly with a little smile. 

The hostess sheepishly scurried away. 

Hernan was still glaring after her. 

Mariah sighed as they took their seats. She stroked the back of his neck in that way he loved. “Hernan,” She said, “This ain’t New York. How is she gonna know. And who the hell cares?” 

Hernan begrudgingly nodded. They kissed. 

Long after dinner, back at the hotel, Hernan said he was going out for some air. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Mariah warned. 

Hernan looked down, ashamed. He looked back at her and said, “You know I won’t let anyone disrespect you.”

“Hernan,” Mariah said softly, “Come here. Let the bitch spend the night in fear.”

Hernan came towards her and she moved her hand down his stomach, towards the button on his trousers. He sighed deeply. 

“Just focus on me,” she said soothingly. He held her face in his hands, kissing her passionately. She slowly undressed, he removed his clothes a little quicker. She lay back on the bed as he got on top, kissing her down her body and slipping his fingers inside her before moving down to use his mouth. 

After she lay back on the bed in bliss, he got beside her and kissed her again. She straddled him, rode him until she came and he followed. 

They cleaned themselves off, she put her hair up and got her nightgown on. He got back into his boxer briefs. They slept soundly that night. 

In the morning Hernan got up first. He looked out the window in his underwear, out at Lake Michigan. He smiled a little. It was a pretty lake, he’d give it that. And there was a nice view of it, beyond Lake Shore Drive. The view was good. He watched all the cars driving by, the water crashing against the shore. He turned back to Mariah who still slept soundly in the bed. Last time he tried to take a picture of her when she slept, she slapped him. He didn’t try it again, even though she looked so perfect. He got back into bed, kissed her face. 

They got up for breakfast in the hotel. Mariah didn’t want to waste money on room service. Hernan grit his teeth once more as the other hotel patrons stared at the sight of Mariah and him. He could definitely make out some gossip from other tables. 

Mariah assured him, “You’re paranoid.” 

Then she heard another table over mutter about how “There’s no way they’re a couple.” 

So she fed him fruit, passing it from her mouth to his. She said seductively, “Let’s give them some shit to talk about.” 

They fondled and kissed and admired each other until other tables chose to just avert their eyes. 

As they walked through millennium park, Mariah said, “It’s nice to be anonymous. But it’s shit.” 

“They think just ‘cause they got the Willis Tower they can size us up,” Hernan pointed out. 

“SEARS!” Someone screamed. “IT’S THE SEARS TOWER!” 

Hernan looked helplessly at Mariah. She just rolled her eyes. “Maybe they renamed it Willis after the less fine Lucas.” 

Hernan couldn’t resist chuckling at that. 

Walking through the park arm in arm, Mariah in a fitted blue dress and Hernan in a black long sleeved shirt and some nice pants, Hernan was quietly in heaven. 

Even though the park was full of others from out of town, it was strangely peaceful. No one knew who they were, no one cared. Mariah wasn’t looking over her shoulder so much, like back home. 

She was smiling more. Really smiling. Hernan decided to do something he wouldn’t try back in Harlem. He kissed the top of her head as they walked. 

Mariah was startled by that, caught off guard. She shivered a little. Hernan noticed this and looked at her, worried. 

Mariah wanted to be annoyed but she wasn’t. She rolled her eyes, kissed him gently on the cheek. 

He kissed her back, on the lips. They were kissing in broad daylight in front of dozens of people who couldn’t care less. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed some people snapping pics on their phones. Frustrated, Hernan turned away and gave them all a dirty look until they backed off. 

Mariah held his hand. He looked at her as if to say, “But…” 

Mariah grumbled, impatient, “Let’s keep walking. You ain’t ten.” He sighed, nodded. 

They looked at the flowers, the throngs of people, mostly tourists. They went to the cloud gate sculpture. 

“They have a giant metal bean they’re proud of, I read in the travel guide,” Hernan remarked, gesturing towards it, “That’s it.” 

“It’s the midwest, baby, of course they’re proud of it,” Mariah said. 

Everyone was taking selfies with it, and everyone was captured inside of its mirror-like exterior. Mariah and Hernan looked at the spectacle disapprovingly. Hernan fought the urge to say, “I want to take a selfie with it.” But it was there. Mariah noticed the want in his eyes and immediately walked off. 

When Hernan caught up to her, she teased, “You were camera shy just moments ago, why would you want a selfie?” 

Hernan shrugged, “I ain’t say shit about a selfie.” 

Mariah snorted, “Sure.” 

They went to the Cultural Center, walking up the flights of stairs and marveling at the architecture, stopping by the main art exhibit. Then they went to the Art Institute. If Hernan saw a painting or sculpture or photo he really liked, he would photograph it. He gold scolded once or twice for getting too close to the art. He got Mariah to be photographed by some paintings and the Chagall window. 

They stopped for a quick lunch in the Art Institute dining room. People looked at them, Hernan bristled. He could feel their judgmental glances. Mariah sitting by him made him feel slightly better. She muttered, though, when the bristling got too much, “I wish you brought your glasses after all.” 

“Seriously?” Hernan grumbled. 

“Well you gotta let it go!” Mariah hissed. 

Hernan just about had an aneurysm when the cashier at the gift shop asked if he wanted to get “his aunt over there” anything nice. He glared, cleared his throat. “No,” he said firmly. 

The cashier quickly apologized. 

“I’d rather get her something valuable,” Hernan said coldly before he left.   


They scoffed at the giant silver TRUMP letters that could be seen past many a block on Michigan Avenue. 

Mariah noticed Hernan getting more and more tense. She stormed off, he following, asking, “Where you going?” 

She led him to the Sunglass Hut at Macy’s, Hernan shaking his head. Mariah quickly and snippily asked for a pair of Wayfarer Ray Bans. She threw down her credit card. 

She thrust the expensive sunglasses at her man. 

“Just put them on and stop moping.” 

Hernan looked at her, hurt. He shook his head. “I thought you wanted me to be Hernan.” 

Mariah snapped, “Then  _ Hernan _ needs to get his shit together. I don’t have time to babysit you.” 

She softened, added reluctantly, “If it will make you feel better I want you to wear them.” 

They returned to the hotel in silence. Back at their room, Hernan said at last, “I appreciate it.”

Mariah threw up her hand dismissively. 

She lay back on the bed, tired. He went over next to her, laid down beside her. 

“Sorry,” He said. 

“I’m not gonna tell you it’s OK again,” she replied. 

“I don’t want you to,” he said, and cupped her face in his hand. He kissed her. 

They ended up taking another joint nap, though in their clothes on top of the covers. 

They once again made it to dinner reservations, barely and by hastily getting ready. There were some looks but Hernan ended up just biting the bullet and placing his sunglasses on the table like a shield. 

The next day, after breakfast, Hernan decided to surprise Mariah. He told her he wanted to go for a walk and would be back, but he went to the Gucci store and got her a new purse. 

She told him, “This doesn’t mean you get sex tonight.” 

Hernan gave her a smug smile. 

They went to the MCA and the Lyric Opera. They had dinner at Spiaggia. They had coffee back at the hotel. Mariah said to him when they were done, “Don’t say you told me.” 

The next day they enjoyed a leisurely lunch at Beacon Tavern. They went to London House for cocktails. 

They went shopping the next day along the Magnificent Mile, ending at Water Tower Place. was one security guard who kept following them. Hernan would stop and turn to the man if he got too close or kept going. On the way out, he asked Mariah to open her bag, to make sure she didn’t steal anything. Mariah was visibly infuriated. So was Hernan. 

Mariah demanded an apology, said she had no reason to steal anything. Hernan got between them, told the man to leave them alone. 

The man still insisted. Hernan pulled his phone out and began to record him. 

The guard scoffed, but then he walked off.   
  


Mariah was shaking with fury as they left. Hernan held her hand and made sure to stay right beside her. 

“You were by me the whole damn time and that didn’t mean shit,” Mariah snapped. 

“I still won’t let anything happen to you,” Hernan assured her. 

“Do what you want,” Mariah said. 

“You want me to?”

“No, that’ll just draw attention.” 

Later in the night, after they had a quiet dinner in the hotel, Hernan told Mariah he had to take care of something. 

“You really need to? Be discreet,” She directed. 

He took his new pair of sunglasses with him. He trailed the guard when he got off his shift, sidled up to him, holding his gun to the guard’s side. Took him into a secluded spot in the parking lot. He made sure to whip the sunglasses off when he cornered the guard against a wall, so he could see who he was facing. 

He pistol whipped the guard and kicked him hard. Hernan thought of shooting him, thought against it. He was about to walk away but changed his mind and shot the guard dead. 

He ditched the gun in the Chicago river, and the gloves that held it. He tossed his clothes for good measure. 

Mariah went back to the London House. Hernan met her back at the hotel. She warily asked, “You feel better?” 

“Do you?” He returned. 

Mariah shook her head. “As long as this shit doesn’t come back to us. To me. That clear?”

Hernan nodded. 

“Some executives hit on me at the rooftop bar,” She said. “I got them to pay for my drinks.” 

Hernan looked at her, pained. “Why tell me that?” 

She fixed him with a look. “Don’t be jealous. Don’t waste time either.”

Hernan thought for a minute, then said, “Next time will be different.”

Mariah, incredulous, said, “Next time?” 

They went to bed. The next day would be their last full day before the vacation was over. 

Hernan looked through his camera roll. He hadn’t taken enough pictures. He frowned at his phone. Mariah noticed and gently put the phone aside. 

She said, “Next time you can take more.” 

Hernan held her face in his hands and kissed her. 

They walked through Grant park. They got another couple to photograph them together by the Buckingham Fountain. They made it to the top of the Sears tower, looking down at the rest of the city. They got someone to snap pictures of them together. They spent the rest of the day relaxing and sexing in their hotel bed. They went to their dinner reservation at Alinea. They went to Cerise, soaked in more of the city from up top. They went to bed tired and full and satisfied. 

“We should have gone to some more museums, I just didn’t want to deal with screaming kids …” Mariah murmured. 

“Next time?” Hernan asked coyly. 

“If we make it,” Mariah answered. She paused, then added, “You didn’t do half bad. In Paris you can’t do certain things…”

“Alright,” Hernan said, a little embarrassed. 

“I do like you hot…” 

Hernan grunted in satisfaction. Mariah turned off her lamp and kissed him goodnight. He followed suit. 

Back in Harlem, Alex was asking Mariah how everything went. 

“Madam, did you and Sha...Hernan...Have a good time? Did the reservations all work out?” 

Mariah mainly just said “Yes, Alex, thank you, Alex,” until she was tired of him and asked that he fix her a scotch. 

Darius was asking Hernan if they got any pictures by The Bean, or stopped at Soldier Field. “The second city, right?” He asked. 

Hernan laughed. He answered, “They ain’t got shit on this city. They got some cute buildings, though.” 

Darius said, “No shit went down?” 

“I did kill a guy,” Hernan shrugged. 

“Of course you did,” Darius sighed. 

Hernan tried to explain but Darius knew it was because someone did something to Mariah. 


End file.
